Appearance is Everything
by rambunctious child
Summary: "Mother doesn't usually give good advice; sometimes she gives terrible advice." a story about some of the negative effects of parenting. I'm not sure if this should have a higher rating or not; if so please PM me or say so in a review : thanks.


AN* This is definitely something different than what I usually write. It was inspired by my other story, "Curiosity killed the cat" somewhat; at least the narrative style. This story is very serious. I happen to believe that Narcissa has some self worth/image problems, these problems would greatly affect Draco because he is being taught that it is okay to do these things that this is how you should act, how you should look.

I have never written something like this before, please review.

disclaimer- i do not claim to own; nor do i own, harry potter. That belongs to j.k. rowling.

**NOTE**-if you personally feel this way about yourself I urge you to seek help. You are beautiful and don't deserve to have such a negative view of yourself. If you don't believe me please go look in the mirror and repeat, "I am beautiful," at least three times. Every time you see your reflection do this. One day, I promise you, you will believe it. You are loved! I LOVE YOU. If you need proof of this leave a review or a personal message and I will tell you every day until you believe me; until you believe in yourself. I promise. Remember, inner beauty has greater value.

**Appearance is everything**

Mother doesn't usually give good advice; sometimes she gives terrible advice. This had been one of those days. It had been some social function or other, where the husbands would try to sneak a little work in; or just go sneaking off, the wives would gossip; or in mother's case drink enough not to notice the rumors, and the children would be tucked away in some other room.

But today, today I was a man. Today I would be at the actual party, which meant I had to wear dress robes; now I don't much mind the robes but dress shoes are awful. Anyway, while we were in the waiting room, mother near chocking me to death with my tie; another article I could do without, I asked mother why I had to dress up in the first place; what did it matter?

"So that you look beautiful darling; people will like you better." I didn't know it then, but this sentence put a lot of things into perspective; at least my perspective.

* * *

Mother had told me often enough that appearance is everything. People don't like to look at ugly things, she'd point out. People don't buy ugly furniture or clothing, so why would they want to talk to ugly people?

I had been dragged to the birthday party of the child of one of father's colleagues. Mother promised I'd have fun. She was about as excited as I was; she knew no one, save father who never showed. Combing my hair at the door my mother promised that a handsome boy like me would make plenty of friends.

I spent the day playing chess with the kids' grandfather. No one even said hi.

* * *

When I was younger mother used to pinch my cheeks. "Just giving you some colour." She'd reply while I swatted at her hands; it hurt! Apparently her mother did it to her when she was young too, because we're so pale. I hate being pale. The mornings father did make it to breakfast mother would wear her pearls, he'd ask me if I was sick. I was looking pale he'd note. I'd nod, because yeah, it is sick.

* * *

I don't know what my favourite feature is. At least that's what I say when people ask. I don't have a favourite feature. I don't like any of my features. I look washed out; faded. People like my eyes though. I started slicking my hair back so people could see them better.

* * *

Mother was having some friends over for tea one afternoon, and I was supposed to get cleaned up before they got there; be presentable. Mother only ever asked me to be presentable in front of people she didn't like. She didn't really like anybody.

When I had come inside to clean up however one of the ladies was already in the parlor. My hair was ruffled, I was sticky with sweat, and I had dirt smeared across my cheek. The lady scrunched up her nose in disgust and asked for my mother, who came up behind me and told me to wash up. She had never looked so disappointed.

* * *

When I woke up in my Hogwarts dorm for the first time I went to the bathroom and threw up. I was nervous. The only person I had held my hand out to in friendship had rejected it, what if nobody liked me?

It took me a while to notice that I was pinching my cheeks; I felt better when I saw that my face was pink.

* * *

When I was younger I caught my mother in the toilet with her fingers down her throat. I asked her if she was feeling ill; I had heard her being sick. She shook her head, and told me to go back to bed. Now I'm not particularly fond of puke, so I went back to bed, I did ask her in the morning however; while I had my toast and she her tea with two sugars. She said she was making herself beautiful.

* * *

Crabbe and Goyle were fat. People didn't like them. I didn't think this was a coincidence.

* * *

Pansy never liked me when we were younger. She would push me and call me stupid and the like. She had made such a point not to like me that I needed her to like me. When we started school we didn't talk much, it's not like when our mothers had tea and we had to talk; mother always made sure we were presentable for that. I thought that if I stood up for her when the older girls called her names it would make her like me. She didn't seem to care much though. When third year rolled around Pansy suddenly became very interested. She wanted to talk to me all the time, and fought for seats beside me in class. It's nice to have someone want to be around you.

Daphne told me it was only because I was a pretty boy, that the only thing she actually liked about me was how I looked.

At least somebody liked something about me.

* * *

On my father's birthday one year my mother thought it would be a good idea to surprise him in the office. She put on a navy dress and had me fix my hair; for we were going to the Ministry of Magic, before we flooed in. The security officers became much friendlier once my mother informed them she was a Malfoy and we got in quickly. When we arrived at Father's office Mother knocked, and then fixed the crease in her skirt. Father did not answer. She knocked again, nothing. I suggested that nobody was in there. I was lying though, I could hear people talking, mother just seemed upset; she doesn't like to be ignored, but unfortunately she gets overlooked a lot. Mother opened the door in a huff, going off about how whenever she tries to be a good wife Father goes and behaves like a proper ass. He wasn't listening to mother though; he instead continued the conversation with his secretary, which made Mother even more flustered.

Elisa Klein, I didn't like her.

Sure she was pretty; bright blue eyes, blonde hair; not white, sparkling smile, sure she was pretty. She was also taking all my father's attention. I couldn't blame him though.

People only notice the beautiful people. Ugly people just get forgotten.

* * *

I never really ate much. At parties the food isn't for eating, it's for admiring, and Mother wasn't a big eater either so we didn't have big fancy meals; just fancy. Some days Mother would have only a cup of tea for breakfast, or a scotch for dinner. So nobody really noticed as I ate less…and less. They noticed when I got thinner though.

They said I looked good.

* * *

Now that I was older, Mother had begun leaving me home by myself more often. Well, she thought that I was having friends over; I didn't have friends. I suppose that by the end of the school year they were all tired of looking at me; I was too. Once, while mother was gone I had dyed my hair, just to see what it would look like. I had scared myself half to death, I had thought someone had come home; I hadn't recognized myself. I looked like a different person; I could be a different person.

That's the happiest I remember being that summer.

* * *

It became difficult to avoid food. I was hungry all the time, but people couldn't see the pain so it didn't matter. I couldn't handle it though; I would fold under the pressure. I'd make compromises with myself; just one roll, just one bite. But once I started I couldn't stop. I'd leave, just so I could stop. Sometimes I found myself in the kitchens; I always ended up in the Prefect's bathroom though.

When I looked in the mirror all I could see was my failure.

* * *

Pansy was cheating on me. Nott had proof of this. She couldn't know I knew, then we'd have to break up. Then I'd be alone.

But I didn't understand why she would cheat on me. I never wronged her. I told her she was pretty, I helped her with her homework; sometimes I just did it for her, I listened to her, and if she asked for something, anything, I would find a way to get it. And we've had sex before.

I had the door locked to the bathroom and sat in the dry tub, just thinking. She was probably off with him now; was she always with him when she wasn't with me? I looked up and caught my reflection. I had always known she only liked how I looked.

I cried.

* * *

I was lonely, even when I was surrounded by people. Pansy was never really with me, her mind was somewhere else. In all fairness I was never really there either. I kept thinking about the day I found out she was cheating; when I had looked in the mirror. I didn't want to go to dinner, I knew I would eat; I was weak. So I went to the dormitories and decided to just go to bed. I was tired; I was always tired. After getting changed I went into the lavatory to brush my teeth and there it was. That damn mirror with my damn reflection. I don't remember doing it, but I must have smashed it, for there were shards all over the counter and piled in the sink basin, and my knuckles were bloody and throbbing. It had felt good. One wave of the wand and it'd be fixed.

So I smashed another, and another, until my palms were sliced raw and the room decorated with glass.

Held out my hands, turning them to look from the palms to the backs. Shards stuck out from wounds, blood was running down my arms, I could see the bone of one of my knuckles. They would scar.

They would be ugly.

I fell to the floor under the weight of what I've done.

Blaise found me, he saw the empty mirror frames, he saw the shattered glass. He saw my hands. All he could say was why? So I told him.

I now look how I feel.

fini

**Please Review! **

**and please dear readers be good to yourselves. **


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